


Rainbow

by QuinTalon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Healing, Post-War, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 00:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18767833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuinTalon/pseuds/QuinTalon
Summary: The war ended six years ago, but it felt like only yesterday to Hermione. Unable to let go of the past, she was floating through life, isolating herself from her friends and searching for… something. When she runs into Draco, who had disappeared years ago, she discovers he just might have what she’s looking for.A birthday offering for BiscuitsForPotter.





	Rainbow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BiscuitsForPotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiscuitsForPotter/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to the wonderful BiscuitsForPotter! I hope you have a wonderful day, sweet friend! 💛
> 
> This fic was inspired by the song Rainbow by Kesha.
> 
> Much thanks and love to ravenslight for being amazing and applying her beta skills to this story; and to otterlyardent for allowing me to bounce ideas off her.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: Many thanks to JK Rowling for creating an amazing world we love to play in. I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, they just were kind enough to help me tell this story.

* * *

 

Hermione shivered and pulled her coat tighter around her as she buried her face in her scarf in a vain attempt to ward off the biting cold of the winter storm. She paused when the bright neon light of a pub across the street caught her eye — Second Chances. _Humph, if only_. She hesitated only for a moment, quickly glancing both ways down the street before darting towards the green glow of the pub sign.

 

She pushed open the heavy door, wincing when it squeaked loudly, drawing the attention of nearby patrons. She ducked her head as she made her way to the bar, sitting on the farthest barstool.

 

A friendly looking bartender smiled as she wiped down the bar in front of Hermione. “What can I get you, love?”

 

“A cider, please,” Hermione murmured.

 

“Coming right up.” The barkeep turned and reached up to grab a glass but stopped as a deep voice called from the back. “Tavia!”

 

The bartender nodded at Hermione. “Excuse me for a sec.”

 

Hermione waved her off with a small smile. She wasn’t in any hurry. No one was waiting on her, and she had nowhere else to be. She sighed as she loosened the scarf from around her neck, fingers fiddling with its fringe while she kept her head down, studying the well-worn wood of the bar in front of her. Well-worn. That described her as well.

 

She closed her eyes while she thought about her life now. Six years after the war, the wizarding world was healing. Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and Diagon Alley had been rebuilt to their former glories, better than before in some cases. Memorials had been built for those lost, foundations created and donations made, all to make those left behind feel better about surviving. Her friends were all happily paired off. Some were married; some had kids. They had jobs they loved, hobbies they enjoyed. Everyone was moving on, living their lives.

 

But not Hermione. She couldn’t seem to move on. To forget the losses. Dumbledore, Dobby, Tonks, Remus, Fred… her parents. And so many others. She could still smell the blood and sweat and ash. She could still see the flashes of spells, the screams and shouts and cacophony of the battle. The maniacal laughter of Bellatrix as she tortured Hermione still rang in her ears.

 

She tried, oh how she tried, to move on. To be like everyone else. But she was stuck, lost in the past, unable to move forward and _live_. And she hated herself for it. She grew tired of the pitying looks and sighs of frustration from her friends. She had begun to pull away from them just over two years ago, hating that she had become a burden for them. It had been months since she had spoken with any of them or even seen them. It was for the best. They deserved better than to be reminded of their past horrors everytime they looked at her.

 

She was snapped out of her thoughts when a tumbler of golden liquid was pushed in front of her. “Sorry about that, miss. Tavia said you ordered a cider.” The deep voice she heard call from the back was now directed at her. Without looking up, Hermione quietly muttered her thanks.

 

She lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip, enjoying the crisp apple flavor. She had never been a fan of alcohol, not liking the aftertaste most left, until she tried cider. It was like drinking carbonated apple juice – an apple juice that relaxed her and got her happily tipsy if she drank enough.

 

Loud laughter erupted from the other side of the pub, drawing her attention to a group of friends joking with each other. She smiled sadly, wondering when she’d last laughed so freely. She shook her head at her melancholy. To distract herself, she finally looked around her, taking in the pub and the people. There was a decent crowd for a weeknight, some groups sitting together at tables while lone people like herself peppered the seats at the bar.

 

Her eyes landed on the new bartender, who she assumed was the one to serve her drink, his back to her as he unloaded a box of supplies. He was tall and thin with wide shoulders. He moved more gracefully than she assumed a bartender would, his mannerisms smooth and practiced. He turned and caught her eye, a bright smile on his face. Her lips began to curve upward in return when his expression turned puzzled then surprised. His grey eyes opened wide as he tilted his head.

 

“Granger? Is that you?”

 

It was her turn to look puzzled. She narrowed her eyes in concentration, brow slightly furrowed, as she tried to place his voice and face. Then it hit her. _Oh!_

 

“M-Malfoy?” She stuttered as she looked him over again.

 

It wasn’t a surprise she hadn’t recognized him straight away. He was a far cry from the impeccably coiffed and dressed boy she had gone to school with. Gone was his slicked back white-blond hair. It was now styled in a messy, just-shagged look with faint streaks of color in it. Worn denims with holes in the knees were slung low around his hips, and a Def Leppard t-shirt hung on his lithe frame. A glint of light shown off the ring piercing his eyebrow. She studied it for a moment before noticing that both ears were pierced as well. Her eyes then fell to his exposed left arm, now covered in tattoos. She could still see the Dark Mark, but it was incorporated into the surrounding images. He seemed to feel her eyes on it as he quickly shoved his hands into his pockets, shielding it against his body. The movement allowed her to see the other side of his arm; there, in a mirrored position as if to balance the darkness of the Dark Mark, was a beautiful bouquet of narcissus flowers, the name Narcissa elegantly scrawled below it.

 

Hermione felt a flash of sympathy and camaraderie, knowing that he had lost his family too. While his father had been sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban, Malfoy and his mother had both been acquitted, Draco for his age and having been coerced into taking the Dark Mark and task of killing the Headmaster, and Narcissa for her role in lying to Voldemort after Harry was struck with the killing curse, allowing him to turn the tide of the battle. Both Hermione and Harry had spoken at their trials, arguing for their freedom and winning it.

 

Two months later, Narcissa had been killed. She had been in Diagon Alley, the first time she’d been out since her trial, and she had been struck down by a group of wanted Death Eaters intent on avenging their Lord and punishing the Malfoy matriarch’s betrayal. It had been quick and thankfully painless.

 

Harry had been livid when he found out. Still in Auror training, he used his influence to be assigned the case and personally went after the men who killed the woman he had come to respect. Narcissa had been a mother who was willing to sacrifice herself for her son just as Lily had done for Harry all those years ago. It had taken him four months, but when the last of the killers had been brought in, Harry had gone to Malfoy himself to tell him the news. Hermione never found out what was said, but both men came out of the conversation without their previous animosity.

 

Malfoy had attended every trial for his mother’s killers, each of whom were given life sentences. He disappeared from the the wizarding world soon after. No one had seen him in years. Rumors had abounded on where he was and what he was doing. But none of them were close to the truth it seemed.

 

Malfoy took a step closer to her and chuckled. “Yeah, it’s me. Surprised?”

 

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she huffed a laugh as well. “Surprised does not even begin to cover it. It’s been years. No one knew what happened to you. There were rumors of course, but…” She trailed off with a shrug.

 

“Oh, I hope there were some good ones. Salacious and shocking, perhaps?” He waggled his eyebrows.

 

“I’m sure there were. I honestly didn’t pay much attention to them. I’ve never put much stock in rumors.”

 

He hummed in agreement. “No, you never have. Facts and truths were more your style.” His lips turned up into his familiar smirk, but it was lacking the disdain and contempt of his youth. “So, Granger, what brings you into my fine establishment this evening? Hiding away from your adoring fans and a gaggle of redheads?”

 

Ignoring his frankly spot on assessment, she asked, “You own this place?”

 

He nodded and smiled. “Yep, sure do. Going on four years now.”

 

“Wow.”

 

He closed the distance between them and leaned one hand on the bar in front of her. “Not what you expected of me, is it?” She shook her head. “Not what I thought I would do either. But I love it.”

 

She saw the truth of it reflected in the contentment on his face. Draco Malfoy was happy with his life. She felt simultaneously proud of him and jealous that he, of all people, had somehow found peace when she could not. Shaking off her darker thoughts, she gave him a weak smile. “I’m glad.” She swallowed the last of her cider and asked, “How much do I owe you?”

 

He waved his hand and grinned at her. “On the house. Old schoolmate special for first time visits.”

 

She nodded at him as she stood from the barstool. “Thanks, Malfoy.”

 

“Anytime, Granger. Hope to see you around.”

 

“Yeah, maybe. Goodnight.” She waved over her shoulder as she turned to leave. She missed the grey eyes that followed her out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione found herself back at Second Chances a month later. She hadn’t intended to ever return, but she could not seem to get the strange run in with Malfoy out of her mind.

 

He was so different. He was relaxed and happy. It intrigued and annoyed her. How did he do it? What secrets did he hold that could help her?

 

She sat at the same stool and was again greeted by the friendly bartender from before. She grinned at Hermione and took her order.

 

Despite herself, Hermione’s eyes scanned the pub, looking for the messy blond hair. Not seeing him, she stretched her neck to peer towards the back of the worker’s area where Malfoy had been during her last visit. She huffed when she was not able to see much of anything.

 

After ordering her second cider, Hermione got up the nerve to ask if Malfoy was working that night.

 

Tavia, as Hermione recalled the bartender’s name to be after hearing another patron call out to her, smiled knowingly at her. “Sorry. He’s not in tonight. But I’ll tell him you asked. I’m sure he’ll be sorry he missed you.”

 

To her chagrin, Hermione felt herself blush. “Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. He won’t be bothered that he missed me.” She quickly shoved some money at the grinning woman before hastening out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

Only two weeks passed before Hermione was once again warming what she’d come to think of as her barstool at Malfoy’s pub. This time, however, she was greeted by the owner himself. She was taken back by the genuine smile that graced his face when he saw her walk in.

 

“Evening, Granger! Good to see you again.” He turned and poured her a cider, handing it to her as she sat.

 

She raised an eyebrow in question at him. He simply shrugged. “Tavia said you ordered that again last time you were here.” He smirked and leaned into the bar. “I was sad to have missed you.”

 

Hermione scoffed, despite fighting off a blush. “No you weren’t.”

 

“I wasn’t? Well, you’ll just have to take my word for it. Or ask Tavia.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “She’ll tell you that I was mopey for at least an hour after she told me.”

 

“He was!” Tavia hollered from the other end of the bar.

 

Hermione was unable to stop herself from smiling. Malfoy ducked his head down to meet her gaze, a grin on his lips. “There it is. Wondered if I could get a real smile out of you this time,” he said quietly.

 

She felt her eyes widen, staring into his, before she dropped them back to her drink. She fidgeted in her seat for a few moments before glancing back up to Malfoy. He smiled kindly at her before standing straight.

 

“So, how’ve you been? Still taking the wizarding world by storm?”

 

She shook her head. “No, I’m not doing much storming nowadays. I keep busy with work. That’s about it.”

 

Malfoy tilted his head. “Surely you do more than just work.”

 

Hermione didn’t respond, taking another sip from her glass to avoid the statement.

 

“What, no boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

 

She quietly muttered, “No.”

 

“What about Potter and Weasley? Weaslette? Surely you spend time with them.”

 

Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione sighed. She thought about lying, but what was the point? She lifted her eyes to his and found that she _wanted_ to tell him the truth. “I haven’t spoken to them in months.”

 

She watched as his eyebrows flew into his hairline.

 

“Seriously?” She nodded. “I never thought anything would come between the Golden Trio.”

 

“Don’t,” she snapped. She glared at him through narrowed eyes. “I _hate_ that title.”

 

He raised his hands in front of him. “No harm meant, Granger. I was just surprised is all. I apologize.”

 

She sighed again. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” She pulled a few coins out from her bag and laid them on the bar. “Thank you.” She stepped away from the counter.

 

“Granger, wait.”

 

“See you later, Malfoy.” She left without looking back.

 

* * *

 

 

Three weeks passed before Hermione allowed herself to return. This time, the bar was manned by a large bloke who looked like he could lift her with one hand. He grunted as she sat, quickly filling her drink order. He went to the back, from which she heard his rough voice call, “Hey, boss. That dame you told me about is here.”

 

Hermione almost choked on her drink. He was telling his staff to let him know when she came in?

 

Malfoy emerged a few moment later, a towel slung over his shoulder. He stopped in front of her and smiled. “Granger.”

 

“Malfoy.”

 

“Glad to see you back. It’s been awhile.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I have something for you.” She watched as he pulled a bottle from under the bar and popped the top off with a practiced flick. Intrigued, she read the label when he handed it to her.

 

“Pear cider?” She met his eyes with a tilt of her head.

 

“I noticed you always order a cider and thought you might like to try a different flavor. I saw this one the last time I made an order.”

 

“You ordered a new cider just for me to try it?”

 

She may have been mistaken, but Hermione thought she saw a light blush on his cheeks.

 

“Well, no. Not _just_ for you. Just— try it, will you?”

 

She shrugged and took a small sip. “Hmm. Not bad. Have you tried it?” At the shake of his head, she held the bottle out to him. “Here. Taste it.”

 

He hesitated only for a moment before wrapping his hand around the neck of the bottle, his pinky brushing against her thumb. Hermione had to hold in a gasp at the touch. She bit her bottom lip as she watch him place the bottle against his own lips before he tipped it back, his eyes never leaving hers.

 

“Yeah,” he breathed after he swallowed. “Not bad.” He cleared his throat and set the bottle back on the bar next to her hand. “Maybe I’ll order a new flavor next time too. If you want to try another.”

 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione began to visit Second Chances more frequently. Every two weeks, then every week. Before long, she was there a few nights a week. It became routine. She would walk in, greeted by either Malfoy or one of his employees who would call for him. Each time, there would be a a glass of cider waiting for her, sometimes the usual apple, sometimes a new flavor. So far, she had tried pineapple, pumpkin, berry, and – interestingly enough – rosé.

 

But what drew her back each time were her conversations with Malfoy – or Draco as she now called him. They had shared stories of their lives before Hogwarts, held long discussions on books and films, laughed over their antics in school, and talked about just life in general. She often stayed past closing until it was just the two of them sitting at the bar. She had yet to share much about her current life with him, but she knew he was curious and just waiting for her to feel comfortable discussing it.

 

She was currently sitting on her usual stool, a glass of green apple cider in her hand, watching Draco bend to grab a bottle from the box on the floor before he reached up to put it on a shelf above his head. Bend and reach. Bend and reach. Hermione found herself mesmerized by the way the muscles of his back and arms moved under his shirt. Tavia, who Hermione had come to think of as an _almost_ friend, leaned in next to her and whispered, “Enjoying the view there, love?”

 

Hermione snapped her head towards Tavia, a bright blush spreading across her face and neck, completely embarrassed at having been caught.

 

Tavia chuckled at her expression. “Don’t worry, hon. You’re not the first to notice what an Adonis that man is. He is _yummy_.”

 

Hermione scoffed. “Please. I think no such thing.”

 

“Sure you don’t.” Tavia leaned in once more. “I’m pretty sure the attraction goes both ways. If that helps.” She patted Hermione on the shoulder as she walked away.

 

Draco turned and smiled at her. “So how’s the green apple?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

He laughed and pointed at her drink.

 

“Oh! Good. Yeah, it’s good. Here.” She pushed it towards him. It had also become routine for her to share a sip of the new flavors with him when she tried them.

 

“Mmm. Oh, that’s very good. Might be my favorite so far.” He flashed a grin at her as he handed the bottle back.

 

She chuckled. “Of course it is. Even I know how much you love green apples. I used to see you with one all the time at Hogwarts.”

 

“Were you keeping an eye on me, Miss Granger?” he teased.

 

She rolled her eyes. “Only so I could stay out of your way.”

 

His smile fell. He reached across and took her hand, running his thumb across her knuckles. “I know I apologized years ago after my trial, but I _am_ sorry for how I treated you back then, Hermione. I was a complete and utter prat to you and your friends. You never deserved it. I am humbled that you even deign to speak with me.” He squeezed her hand before continuing his ministrations. “I am so grateful for the privilege of knowing you now.”

 

Hermione had been focused on their hands until he spoke those last words. She lifted her eyes to meet his, though her gaze was slightly blurry as she held back tears.

 

“I forgave you a long time ago, Draco. We both did things we regretted back then.” She felt a tear escape and run down her cheek. Frustrated, she quickly wiped it away. She cleared her throat. “And I think _I’m_ the one privileged to know _you_ now. You’re so different, so — _happy_ . How… how did you do it? How were you able to… move on? Why can’t _I_ seem to?”

 

Now that she had started, she couldn’t seem to stop. She pressed a hand against her mouth to muffle a sob. Draco stood up quickly and called to Tavia. “Take over for me, yeah?”

 

She nodded, turning a concerned face to Hermione. “Of course. Take your time.”

 

Draco hurried around the bar and helped Hermione off her stool. He wrapped one arm around her waist and guided her to the back where he opened the door to his office. He ushered her onto a comfortable sofa and sat beside her, his arm never leaving her waist. He pulled her so her head was tucked under his chin, resting on his chest, and let her cry. He ran his free hand over her hair, the repeated action comforting and achingly sweet.

 

Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she had been held this way or the last time she allowed herself to cry in front of someone else. Her breath hitched as she clung to him, letting herself go as her body shook with her sobs.

 

She had no idea how long she wept in his arms, but when she finally stopped, she found she did not want to let go. The release of her pent up emotions had been cathartic, and his arms around her were a balm. Slowly, she eased her arms back to her sides and pulled away from him.

 

He smiled down at her, lifting his hands to wipe the remaining tears from her cheeks. She was sure she looked a fright — red-rimmed eyes, swollen snotty nose, blotchy face, and her hair had probably doubled in size.

 

She sniffed and reached into her bag for a tissue. She turned from him to wipe her face and nose before meeting his eyes. His kind and stunningly beautiful eyes.

 

“I-I’m sorry, Draco. Thank you.”

 

“There’s absolutely nothing to be sorry for.” He hesitated a moment before asking, “Do you feel comfortable talking to me about what just happened? You don’t have to, of course. But I’ve found it can be helpful to have someone listen.”

 

Biting her bottom lip, Hermione slowly nodded. “I-I think I should talk with someone.” She swallowed roughly and sniffed again, her hands fiddling with the tissue. “I… I can’t seem to let go of the past. Everything we went through — the war, being on the run, the final battle, B-Bellatrix.” She felt him stiffen beside her at the mention of his aunt. “I remember it all like it was yesterday. I can’t seem to move past it like everyone else has. I… I still see all their faces. Everyone who died.”

 

She took a deep breath, holding it in before allowing it to gust out. “Did you know… I obliviated my parents the summer after sixth year.” She turned to face him. He shook his head as he reached up to move her hair over her shoulder, running his hand down her back and leaving it resting against the curve of her spine.

 

“I thought I was keeping them safe. If they had no memories of me, of having a magical daughter, they would be safe from Death Eaters. I sent them to Australia. And when the war was over, I went to look for them.” She closed her eyes, unable to look at him as she continued. “They were killed by a drunk driver as they were driving home from a night out. They died without knowing me. Without remembering they had a daughter.”

 

The hand on her back moved in comforting circles. She leaned into it, thankful for the connection of another person. Someone who understood her loss.

 

“I’m sure you’ve noticed; I’m not the same Hermione Granger you knew in school. I’m… broken. I’ve isolated myself from my friends, I couldn’t stand to be a burden on them anymore. They were healing and trying to live full lives. They didn’t need me around as a reminder of what we all lost.” She clenched her fists, breathing heavily, forcing out words she had never spoken to anyone. Words she barely admitted to herself. “I hate being known as the best friend to the Boy Who Lived, the brains behind the Golden Trio, war heroine, bloody Brightest Witch of her Age. All anyone sees are those labels. If I had really been all those things, I would have been able to save more people, done more to stop Voldemort sooner.”

 

She turned and grabbed his knee with both hands, desperate for him to understand. “I feel… trapped by those labels. Unseen. And unwanted. Nobody sees _me_. Not even Harry or Ron. Not anymore.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But you do, don’t you? I think you see me, sometimes.”

 

Draco cupped her face with the hand not on her back and nodded. “I see you, Hermione. You are so much more than those labels.” He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “It can be agonizing to feel like you are not living up to expectations, believe me I know. Merlin, do I know. But you need to learn to let go of the past. Holding on to it, clinging to those you lost, is killing you. Forgive those that hurt you, but most importantly, you need to forgive yourself. You survived, and that’s okay.”

 

He ran the back of his hand down her cheek then reached down and threaded his fingers through hers. “You asked me how I moved on. It was a long, painful process. After Mother… I left England, traveled the world for a year. I went everywhere I always wanted to go and never stayed anywhere for long. I traveled as a Muggle; I took trains, occasionally I flew on a plane but never really liked that. I even learned how to drive. I learned a lot about myself that year. I slowly let go of everything from my past – my heritage, my prejudice, my hate, my pride. It was hard, but so worth it in the end. When I came back, I didn’t want to return to my old life, so I bought a flat just down the road. I stumbled on this place for sale a few weeks later. I came in and met the owner, who graciously took me under his wing and taught me everything he knew about running a pub. I learned how to use a computer – yes, I know, _shocking_ – and took online courses for mixology. I made new friends, learned about the Muggle world, and made my place in it. It’s a simple life, but it’s mine. And I’m happy with it.”

 

His eyes glossed over, as he looked over her shoulder. “For so long, I lived my life in shades of black and grey. But when I let go, when I could finally be myself, I found that this world is so full of colors. A rainbow of colors. And life is beautiful in full color.” He focused his eyes back on her. “I think you’re lost in the grey. You need to find your color again.”

 

Hermione nodded. In a quiet voice, she asked, “Will you help me?”

 

“I would be honored.” He leaned down slowly, studying her reaction and allowing her time to pull away, before softly pressing his lips to hers.

 

Hermione’s breath caught in her lungs, and she hesitated for only a moment before throwing her arms around him and pulling him closer, sinking into his warmth. He hummed happily and deepened the kiss, and she was lost.

 

A sharp rap on the door caused them to finally draw apart, both breathing heavily.

 

Tavia called through the door, “I’m heading out now, Draco. Everything is locked up. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

 

Draco cleared his throat, before responding in a husky voice, “Yeah, tomorrow. Thanks Tavia.”

 

They heard her chuckle before she muttered to herself, “Mmhmm. Good night.”

 

They listened as her footsteps grew quieter. They met each other’s eyes before they both burst out laughing. Draco stood and held his hand out to help her up.

 

He grinned at her as he pulled her towards him. “Ready to get started?”

 

She returned his grin and nodded. “Okay.”

 

They were on the sidewalk in front of the pub moments later. Draco grabbed her hand and flashed her a smile that made her heart stutter and her face flush. “How about we paint the world tonight?” She laughed as she ran along behind him, hope finally rising from the depths of her soul, no longer locked away.

 

And he was right. Life was beautiful in color.

 


End file.
